Affairé
by Two Guns and a Knife
Summary: A little multi-chapter short story. The long awaited sequel to Amour. Being hairy is not a sin. Everyone deserves a second chance. Truth is seldom pleasant. Love is still a tricky word. Babe HEA. Cupcakes beware. Theme Song: Born to Die by Lana Del Rey.
1. Affairé

**Affairé**

He hands in his resignation.

He sells his house.

He breathes in the cool air and casts one last glance around. The house is empty and the street is quiet. He thinks of all his happy memories and beautiful dreams. Loneliness cuts through his silent heart like a sharpest knife. Sorrow dampens his eyes. Like a shadow in the dark moonless night, he gets into his car, starts the engine, and disappears. He's good at keeping secrets. He moves away from the city where he grew up and leaves everyone, his dog included, behind. He knows his brother-in-law will take good care of Bob. He hopes his mother and Grandma Bella will understand. There's nothing for him here. Not anymore. He once thought he could be happy. He once thought he could have it all. But oh no how wrong he was. Now he finally sees through the endless layers of lies and sees himself. He can't stay. He has to let go and melt away. He needs to wake up in a strange new city. He needs to walk in unfamiliar crowded streets. He needs to feel the warmth of nameless indifferent passengers. He needs to find his freedom, his true self, his real identity. He needs to embrace who he is. Only then can he start to dream, to love, and live again.

For he, too, deserves to be happy. Like everyone else.


	2. Éclat

**Éclat**

The City is glamorous and the streets are wild. Everything is free and expensive. Everybody is alive. Nobody turns to look at him. Nobody smiles. He's one of the countless many. He, too, is faceless. He, too, is nameless. He, too, is both important and not important. He feels free. He feels lonely. He feels like crying. He loves all the movements and noises around him. He feels so alive.

He walks on the pavement and feels like nobody. He's glad that he's just like everybody. His aching heart keeps on beating and ceases to matter. He feels antsy. He feels calm. He breathes in the air and listens to the car horns and people walking. Someone's phone rings. He hears a crisp "Hello" and smells burritos. He stops and decides to buy something to eat.

Quick wide smiles. Chocolate and caramel skin. Cheese sauce. Jalapeños. Al dente. He watches the world and keeps on chewing. Like most Italian men he knows how to cook. He can't say he enjoys cooking. He hates eating alone in silence. He likes his little one-room apartment. He likes his not so narrow bed and his bright windows. He's not the same person. He has changed. Being hairy is not a sin. But still he wakes up, looks at himself in the mirror, and starts shaving in the morning. He slept well. No. He can't remember his dream_—_

His rebellious soul tugs at his vulnerable heart.

He closes his eyes and tries to stop remembering. The burritos are good. Very good. Tasty. Spicy. Full of flavors. Passionate Latino. Extremely yummy. The hands that grabbed hold of his waist. The playful inquisitive tongue. The eyes. The lips. The perfect body. The perfect moment. The perfect man. The perfect kiss. A taste of happiness. A faraway dream. He shakes and trembles and struggles to swallow his burritos. He turns his face from all those indifferent people to hide his sudden tears. New York City. The City that never weeps. The City that never blinks. The City that never gives in. The City that allows you to dream. The City that smothers you and swallows you alive. He blinks away his tears. He calms his breathing. He collects himself. He puts his mask back on. He melts into the crowd.

No. He's not here to cry.


	3. Rouge

**Rouge**

He finds the most perfect red dress.

She stands inside the window like the elegant princess who fell in love in Rome with that tall dark handsome stranger, displaying her stunning beauty to the whole world. In an enchanting silent whisper she calls out to him and he falls for her silky brightness. He can't take his eyes off her. He can't utter a word. He almost cries. He stands there on the pavement, waiting for an everlasting promise to break the spell. Does he have the courage to go inside? Is he ready for his brand new life? Is he prepared to change and say the last goodbye? He has no idea. He only knows he can't give up. He has come this far. He has left everything behind. He misses his mother. He misses Bob. He misses his lovely 2-story house. He misses his old life. And now he's suddenly tired.

He turns away from the dress and flows down the street. He recalls the gaping hole inside his heart. He remembers the cavernous hunger within his stomach. He used to be the boy with the lizard tongue. He lost his virginity at a really young age. He lured many little girls into his father's dark dirty garage. He sweet-talked giggling teenage girls into letting him have his way. He laughed at the envy in every boy's eyes. He liked those girls. He enjoyed the pleasure. Deep down within, he knew something wasn't right. He never ever really felt the thrill. Now he knows his life was a bunch of tightly wrapped lies. He wants something more. And he always, always, needed something else.

He's different. He has always been different. He was just afraid to admit it. He was just afraid to be laughed at. He was the pride and joy of his clan. He was good-looking. He was smart. He joined the Navy. He wanted to see the world. He wanted to be a man. He went to the tiny tattoo shop in Tokyo and got his eagle tattoo the day he turned 20. He didn't want an eagle. He wanted a rose. A beautiful red, red rose. But he didn't want his friends to look at him weird. No. No. No. He was not a girl. He had to prove it to the whole goddamn world. Like his brother and cousins, his friends had laughed and slapped him on the back when he'd told him about the secret tour to his father's garage and the choo choo game. They, too, loved the dirty little poems he'd written on the public bathroom walls. They all wanted to meet the famous sweet moist and soft Stephanie Plum. Oh yes, it was just boys being boys. Nothing less. Nothing more.

He left Navy. He drifted along. He fought in bars. He had random sex with random girls. He returned home and became a cop. He winced and cringed inside when ever his mother and Grandma Bella told him to find a girl, settle down, and pop out kids. Then he ran into Stephanie. Rookie bounty hunter, single, recently divorced, allergic to commitment, cute, sexy, perfect. Just perfect. He quickens his steps. A perfect wife? Or a perfect excuse? He refuses to answer. He refuses to look back. He refuses to think about that perfect dress. Red. So red. Like the one Stephanie wore. Like the rose he wanted to have. Like the fire in Ranger's eyes.

He turns the corner. He crosses the street. His heart keeps thumping in his ears. His face is on fire.

His heart is weeping.


	4. Sombre

**Sombre**

He jerks awake and silently starts to cry. He doesn't know why he hurts so much. His whole life has been a lie. He's the funky little joker who won't stop telling jokes. Rude jokes. Lousy jokes. Improper jokes. He laughs and dances and keeps fabricating lies. His heart is torn. His soul is soaked. The taste of his tears lingers on the tip of his bitter tongue. He has lost the war. He has lost the fight. He has run away with his tail between his legs. He feels small. He feels desperate. And he wants that red red rose. He wants that red red dress. His ragged sobbing shakes his soul. He's miles and miles away from home. He's all alone. And he's still feeling scared. He's afraid of who he is. He's afraid of what he's going to become. Why did he hold on to Stephanie? Why did he have to be the Italian Stallion? Who is he? What is he?

He wipes away his tears. He turns on the bedside light. He stares at his hands. Large manly hands. Fragile heart. And a hurt that won't go away. The baseball season has begun. The Yankees lost to the Red Sox. He misses Jeter's smile. He has money in the bank. He needs a new job. He needs a new life. He doesn't need a shrink. He needs time to think. He needs courage to start. Once he takes the first step, there will be no turning back. And he's afraid to change. He has walked past the bar for a thousand times. He just has to go inside and apply for the job. Piece of cake. Easy as pie. And then he can go get that red red dress.

He smiles to himself. He turns on the TV. He finds a rerun baseball game. He looks at the beautiful face of a young Latino player. His heart starts beating again.


	5. Lumière

**Lumière**

He looks himself in the mirror. He's too big for the red red dress. But he's happy. So happy. He can't stop smiling. He almost cries.

He got the job. He bought the dress. His courage paid off. His luck has turned. He now has a new purpose, a new direction. He feels alive again. In fact, he has made a couple new friends. The bar manager understands his situation. The sales woman of the boutique didn't ask any question. He has fallen in love with the little café just around the corner from his apartment. He is now seeing a psychiatrist about his depression. He's relieved that he doesn't need to take medicine.

_Juts keep calm and be yourself, Joe. __Juts let go and move on, Joe. __Just be brave and stay strong. Joe. __Just do it even if you suck, Joe. __Life isn't that bad._

He will go to the place his new friends recommended and get a whole body wax tomorrow. He will go to a movie alone this weekend. Maybe he can go to the shelter and adopt a cat or a dog next week. He has to do something to forget his past. He has to find a way to deal with his hurt. He is a full grown man. He has to take responsibility for his choices and decisions. And there's no turning back. He has cut all the ties. This is his home now. All the tourists and passersby are his family. He is one of the millions. He won't stand out in the crowd. No one knows about his story. Maybe one day he will be brave enough to call home and tell Grandma Bella he's okay. Maybe one day he will be brave enough to call his sister to check on Bob. He now understands why Stephanie loves Rex so much.

Stephanie_._ His heart lets out a sigh as he silently whispers her name. He will never forget her bright blue eyes and mad wild curls. He will never forget her crazy life and clear laughter. A part of him will always envy Stephanie. A bigger part of him will always love Ranger. Ah, to fall in love with someone you can never have. The slowly burning pain. The everlasting fear. The wistful longing and the raging desires. A dream that will never come true. He looks straight into his sad brown eyes.

_Don't cry, Joseph, don't cry. You look good in this dress. Your new life has just begun. You are who and what you are. Don't be sad. Be happy. _

He raises his hand and gently wipes away his tear. He gives himself a big brave smile. Yes. He does look cute in the red red dress.


	6. Soir

**Soir**

He sits there on the bar stool flirting with his dry martini. The silver sparkling mascara twinkles under the soft dim light and makes his bright brown eyes look enchanting. He's happy with his life in New York City. And nope, he's not complaining. He misses Bob terribly. He now shares his apartment with the poodle mix he adopted from a shelter last week. He called home last Christmas, but had to hang up when his mother and Grandma Bella started crying. Maybe one day he will muster enough courage to go home. Maybe one day he will be brave enough to have them over for a visit. One day. Someday. Not now. Not yet.

He is now addicted to waxing. Every time they peel the wax off his skin he wants to scream in ecstasy. He never thought he would enjoy the pain and the thrill so thoroughly. Yes, he has changed. He has become a totally different person. But sometimes he still thinks of the good old days. He misses the air of New Jersey. He misses the narrow street he grew up on. He misses his faraway dreams. He takes a sip of his dry martini, and swirls the glass gently. He visits Dr. Silverman, his psychiatrist, regularly. But tonight, he feels moody. The color of his new lip gloss reminds him of Stephanie. And Ranger's eyes never stop haunting him.

_Ranger_. He silently murmurs the name and signals the bartender for another martini. He had his nails painted reddish gold this week. He still breaks into tear while singing _**Lady in Red **_on the stage. People like his voice. They say he sings with feelings and tip him handsomely. And he never says no when they ask to take a picture with him. He hasn't dated for ages. He's alone but not desperate. He's still in love with the Man of Mystery. Maybe one day he will finally be able to let go, and then move on. Maybe he will hold on to his broken heart and remain alone till the day he dies. Right now he just wants to concentrate on living his life. Nope. He's not greedy. He smiles pleasantly to himself as a dim shadow falls upon him. He looks up and see a familiar face. His smile freezes.

"Morelli?" The thin weasel-like man gapes at him incredulously. "Joe Morelli?"

He stares at Vinnie Plum for a whole minute. He finally snaps out of it. He's a professional, not an amateur. He's good at what he does for a living. The world is a small place. Everybody has a past. Just keep calm and deal with it. He takes a slow deep breath. He places the smile back on his face. He bats his glued on extra long and curly eyelashes coyly. "Please, call me Josephine."

**~Fin~**


	7. Chez Moi

**Chez Moi**

~Epilogue~

He gathers his coat around him and tries not to bite his lips. He doesn't wants to ruin his lipstick. He loves the pinkish red and the sweet scent of cherry. The wind feels chill on his powdered face. It's just an ordinary winter day. He enjoys his life in the big city. He started dating a short while ago. Micky, his loyal poodle mix, growls fiercely every time he says good night to his dates and lets them kiss him on the lips. One day he'll fall in love. With someone else. One day he'll bare his soul. To another man. But not yet. Not now. Not today. He still moans when they wax his chest. He still has doubts. He still has fears.

He's back in Trenton. The streets are familiar. He's standing right in front of his mother's house. He searches inside for his courage. It's too late to turn back now. Vinnie Plum, though a pervert, does know how to keep a secret. None of his family suspects a thing. Will they accept him as who he is? Will his big playful goofy dog recognize him? How will Stephanie react when she runs into him? Will she gape? Will she gawk? Will she blink and then laugh at him? Will his friends and cousins say, "Oh my God, Joe! What's wrong with you?"

He takes a deep calming breath, his heart thumping in his ears. This is a step he has to take. He is what he is. To hell with what people think. He can hear laughter coming from inside his mother's house. He was born and raised here. They are his family. He loves his new life, but he's been very lonely. He needs to scream, to shout, and let it all out. He wants to be honest. He's tired of lying. He's now a drag queen. A popular one. He's made new friends. He makes good money. But still he's homesick. He misses his mother's cooking. He wants to stop running. He's hoping for the best and expecting the worst. He prays Grandma Bella won't disown him. He knows he's very different now, but still he hopes he can remain her favorite. He walks to the door and rings the doorbell. Sergio, the bear-like bouncer of the bar, thinks he looks cute in high heels. Too bad Sergio is already married, with half a dozen kids.

The door opens. He tries his best to smile at the confused five o'clock shadow face. He cringes a little as recognition dawns in his elder brother's eyes. _Will he slam the door in my face? _He vaguely thinks._ Will he give me a hug and let me in?_ "Geez, Joe." His brother says in a raspy voice, the shock on his face is almost funny. "Geez." The familiar scent of roasted garlic tomato sauce engulfs him.

He arrives in time for dinner.


End file.
